That Time of Light

Tick-tock went the analogue clock,

Who sat in the dark next to a light,

It was the clock (who sits like a stock)

That asked “pray, where are we in the night?

“For I have not been wound

and although I’ve been bound

it may be possible for flight,”

“Have fears none” shone the lamp,

Who resembled a tramp,

“Your chances of flying are slight

“You can’t fly without wings

And you only have springs,

Unless you are made as a kite”

Tocked the stable clock;

“The birds of the air

Who fly without care

Are rather a wonderous sight

But I shall stay fixed

Clogs & Claws can’t be mixed

And flying just gives me a fright!”

So it stayed in position,

Conceeding his condition,

But ticking maybe that lamp is too bright.